Realization
by solaesce
Summary: Uke pair“After all, he should have known better than to think that he would return his feelings.  That was a one in a million chance, a chance that he knew was very small, yet he had somehow managed to hope would be true. oneshot Warning: shonenai


An oneshot.

Warning: shonen-ai, bl, yaoi

Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.

After his collapse, he had all of the time in the world to stay in his bed and to _stay there_, something he usually ignored until he became too weak to go far enough to escape. So he would think and muse and wonder. Wonder about the meaning of life when he was feeling wistful. . .death when he was gloomy. . .tennis. . .his family. . .school. . .but lately, his thoughts kept on turning towards one person in particular.

The boy engraved in his mind was, in his own way, a genius. On the other hand, you could also call him an idiot, and you wouldn't be all that wrong. Especially his ability, or _inability_, to learn new languages.

But he had _passion_, and determination and stubbornness, and a beautiful _fire_ that never stopped burning. Sometimes he wondered if the younger boy was born in the wrong time. . .A couple hundred years earlier, that fire would have made him someone who history would remember. . . probably as the most brilliant, even _bloodthirsty_, samurai.

Now, the most he could be was a famous tennis star, and sometimes he wondered if sharing the top of the world with others would be enough for the boy's ambition when he was older.

Once, he decided that his kouhai was a glowing ember with a steady heat and flying sparks that burned.

Another time, he decided that the reason he thought about him so often were his looks. He had naturally curly hair that was as black as the darkest shadow, pale skin, and a lean, slender frame. His lips were a pale pink and seemed to pout sulkily most of the time. His eyes, though, were the most fascinating. They were typically a dark, dark green like pine needles, but sharper, often catching the small details that made him almost tensai-like, yet just as often missing the big picture. Other times, when he was angry or pushed beyond his limits, then they would turn a burning red, fiercely angry, and feral. They would shimmer wildly, like a malicious force of nature.

It was enthralling, alluring, even beautiful. . .

It was only the day before his surgery did he realize that he loved Kirihara Akaya.

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They all went to visit Yukimura before their match, having a little miniparty of sorts. When no one was looking, he sneaked a look at his captain.

There was the same feline gracefulness to his movements, a sort of allure and charm that he had never noticed on anyone else. His hair was the same cerulean blue, his eyes the same understanding azure shade. However, the changes were still there. He had lost weight and was thinner than ever, his high cheekbones and large eyes standing out in a too thin face.

Then he quickly turned away before anyone noticed. Moments later though, his eyes wandered back, this time sharply seeing how much more fragile he was in the scant weeks he was gone. There was a delicateness to his movements, an almost, slight hesitation to his movements and voice that had never been there before. And though his face genuinely lit up with happiness whenever he smiled, which was often, he looked almost lonely and sad in between, a fleeting change that vanished in a spilt second.

He finally forced himself to look away, to participate in the flowing conversation, to argue with Niou-sempai, and Maru, and to pout whenever he lost yet _another _round of insults with his sempai.

However, he wasn't the only one to notice the loneliness in their buchou's eyes. He could see the way the way they were all worried, the way Maru and Niou-sempai forced themselves to joke around, and make a lot of noise, the way Yagyuu could have been mistaken for a statue when he wasn't helping his boyfriend to lighten the mood, the way Yanagi and Sanada fukobuchou stole frequent looks at Yukimura whenever he was silent. . .

He could tell that Yukimura noticed too. Finally, it was time to go and he almost let out a mental sigh of relief. They began trooping out with 'Get well soon Mura-buchou' and 'We'll win the matches' and a single 'If you die on us, we'll kill you, so be careful' from Niou. Personally, Akaya thought that that was a touch too clichéd.

"Good luck." He said simply before walking out the door.

"Wait!"

He looked back and saw the older boy motioning him over. Yanagi poked his head in, just as he sat on the chair next to the bed, "Is there something wrong, Seiichi?"

He shook his head, saying in a musical voice, "No. I just wanted to talk to Aka-chan for a second. You can all leave now, if you would like to."

Akaya could have sworn that Yanagi's eyes sharpened even though they were closed, before saying, "Then we'll see you after your surgery, Seiichi."

He left, quietly closing the door behind him.

There was a small, awkward silence, the kind Akaya could never remember his captain having with anyone. He traced a shape on the bed before uncomfortably asking, "Did you want something Mura-buchou?"

"Well, I," he began nervously, before cupping Akaya's cheek with one cool hand gently. Then he continued in a quietly calm, almost distant voice. "I just want to tell you something. I believe it is something I would regret not telling you, if I die during the surgery. But if I do survive, this might. . ._change_ the way we treat each other. So, do you really want to know?"

Akaya nodded, almost dazed by the soft lilts of his voice. However, he could still hear the uncertainty, the worry, and the small, almost desperate bit of hope in his voice.

He took a deep breath, letting his hand drop back to the bed, much to Akaya's disappointment, who had enjoyed the soft feel of his hand.

"I have thought about this for a while, and I think –" his voice faltered, and he took another deep breath as he stared at his hands. "I think that I might have fallen in love with you."

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Akaya stared at the blue haired boy, who glanced up, almost hopefully, before seeing his stare and looking back down, the tips of his pale cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

He honestly couldn't believe that Mura-buchou, who was practically his idol, had just told him that he loved him. He stared, noting his pink cheeks, the way his eyes curved up at the edges slightly, his thin, almost aristocratic eyebrows. . .

He stood up, saying in an emotionless voice, "I have to go now. The matches will be starting soon."

_I don't have an answer for you._

Both of them ignored the fact that they both knew that the Rikkaidai team had already registered and that Akaya was playing Singles 2, the second to last game, a game he probably didn't even have to play. "I'll see you after the matches, then."

_I'll tell you my answer afterwards._

"Yes. See you."

Akaya stopped at the door, looking back at the slumped figure of his captain staring at his hands, before silently leaving and closing the door.

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He felt stupid. Utterly stupid. After all, he should have known better than to think that he would return his feelings. That was a one in a million chance, a chance that he knew was very small, yet he had somehow managed to hope would be true.

He clenched his fists together angrily, digging his nails in sharply. He _wouldn't_ let himself hope that Akaya _might_ answer yes, _might_ agree, _might_ say that he liked him, liked him in the same way he liked the younger boy.

No, he wouldn't hope, no matter how sure he was that he read in between the lines correctly.

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He knew that his teammates had noticed his distractedness, the way he had entered his red eye mode when he didn't need to. But he felt a distinct sadistic pleasure as he taunted Fuji, openly telling him that he _meant _to hurt them, that he _liked_ doing so.

He smirked as the tensai's eyes flashed with barely suppressed anger, glaring at him. He could almost imagine the thoughts going through his opponent's head. _What a cruel person. . . A devil. . .A monster in a human skin. . ._

_As if you're any better_, he thought maliciously. _It's just that the damage that I do is physical and the damage that you do is mental._

He only realized the extent of the truth when he lost. Lost miserably, 4-6, when he promised it under 13 minutes.

And when he fell to his knees, he felt a sudden stab of vicious hate at the blue eyed tensai. Hate for his mind games, hate for his win, and the way his eyes were similar to Mura-buchou's. _At least Mura-buchou's are nicer. Prettier, too._

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And then they lost. He couldn't believe his ears when Jackal told them that Sanada _losing_ to that arrogant brat Echizen. And he lost control.

"We can't have lost!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he slammed the wall hard.

No one stopped him. They couldn't have, because all of them had clung, almost superstitiously to the belief that if they won, then Yukimura would win. Then Yukimura would be fine and he would get better and they would be a complete team again and win the Nationals.

He sank to his knees, silently sobbing as he half heartedly hit the wall.

Then he felt someone grab his shoulder, almost roughly, before pulling him down the hall. "Yanagi-senpai. What are you doing?"

The data specialist of Rikkai looked at him passively, yet somehow sharply. ". Do something, but don't do anything you'll regret, Akaya."

Then he left, just as abruptly as he had dragged the ace over.

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He wasn't sure what to think.

_Don't do anything you'll regret, Akaya._

The flat, calm voice repeated over and over again in his head.

_Don't do anything you'll regret, Akaya._

His mind flashed towards and past a million things. . .school?. . . tennis?. . .his family?. . .

Suddenly, he realized what, or who, Yanagi had been talking about. _Mura-buchou. . ._

And he realized just what his answer was.

_Yes. . .I love you, too. . ._

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